


Just Is

by hey0rph3us



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:35:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28913955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hey0rph3us/pseuds/hey0rph3us
Summary: In a sun-devoid world, flowers still find a way to bloom.
Relationships: Kaneki Ken | Sasaki Haise/Kirishima Touka
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	Just Is

**Author's Note:**

> It's 6:35am and I haven't slept and I wrote this in like 30 minutes and it sucks please be gentle goodnight.

  
  


It's late. As Kaneki waits he notices that a flower grows in the corner of a dark, ruined wall. There is a huge crack in the wall that splinters off into more cracks. It is like an urban spiderweb.

Kaneki looks up from behind his white fringe. His eyes fall on the flower, which seems out of place in such a dark, dank place as the underground wards. 

It has a thin and green vine, curling slightly within the crack in the concrete. It fills the cavernous crack like a kind of organic filling foam. 

The petals of the flower are almost otherworldly shiny. No shade of blue compares to it. Maybe, just maybe, the color of a bright sea might shine a candle to it, maybe not.

Where are its roots? How did it grow down here? Kaneki stares at it in wonder. He has never seen a flower like this. He is slightly confused because it looks more like it belongs in a botanical garden than here so far from sunlight.

When he looks at it, he can’t help but feel that the flower exists there for some reason, much like himself. He also e isn’t sure why he’s here either...but for the first time in a long time, he’s glad to simply be.

How funny, he thinks to himself, that trapped underground like a rat is where he finally finds some peace, and all this despite everything that was going on too. Then again, it had nothing to do with _where_ he was but _who_ he was with.

Since he was a child, Kaneki had been a romantic at heart thanks to his countless books. Love. The mere word had fascinated him from an early age and filled him with the hope that one day, _maybe_ one day he'd be wanted, really wanted by someone. As he grew older he could never touch the elusive thing called love, though he often found himself lost in thoughts about finding his one-true-love. Someone to share his passions, his highs, and his lows. To share his life with. He wondered what it would feel like, he wondered, would if he would know it the moment he felt it seize his chest? He would he, he had concluded. How could he not when it had been described so vividly to him.

He had read about how it wasn't always pleasant. That more often than not it hurt. He was scared about that part of it. Not only could it be an unpleasant thrum, something that made his heart sore for days but it could make his eyes weep more than they already did. He had heard from poets and older boys when he was younger that it made the insides feel like a hot furnace. Or that it could make the body feel completely empty. 

After all, Romeo and Juliet killed themselves over love.

Part of it had sounded terrible.

Part of it had sounded exhilarating.

All of it had sounded poetic. 

As a teenager, he had no experience of it though he longed for it, sought it out even. And that had landed him _here_. 

In the end, he became a half-ghoul, because of his blind pursuit of love. 

But there had been a silver lining. If he had never changed into what he is now, not only would he have never met so many of his dear friends but he would have never truly met Touka 

He wants to laugh at himself for thinking all these deep thoughts all because of a small little flower. 

Stretching his limbs, he pulls his eyes away from the flower, trying his best not to think much anymore as he waits for his bedmate. He was so tired and sore from training that figuring out how a flower managed to thrive here could wait for another day, as could wondering if it was an omen of some sort. If it was an omen, he prayed it was of something good. 

Or maybe it’s just as simple as one of the few miracles that exist underneath the surface of Tokyo’s wards. 

At that moment Touka walks in, her feet dragging. Her normal confident bounce long gone from her step. She’s tried too, he realizes. He notices her every sluggish movement as she takes off her shoes and nearly collapses onto his bed without a word. Tired to the bone or not, she still looked beautiful. 

Kaneki lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding; they could now finally get ready for sleep after such a long, busy day. 

Though the cot is too small for two people, their bodies are so accustomed to one another, that they fit comfortably together. They lie down, sides on the mattress, with their faces turned to each other. 

“Finally got away from the kids, Touka-chan?” Kaneki asks, bemused at Touka’s natural affinity towards children despite regularly calling them little brats. 

“Yes,” she responds with a sigh, her voice low and calming to him. “At last. They kept wanting more and more stories. I finally told them I would feed them to Yomo if they didn’t go to bed.”

Laughing, Kaneki allows his arm to slither underneath her small frame and around her shoulder. “I’m sure they were terrified of that very real threat.”

He had been ready for bed for some time and had just been waiting on her so he’s already in his briefs. The only thing he wears above the waist is the ring that Touka gave him. It dangles upon his chest, moving gently across his skin as he situates himself comfortably on the bed. It was given to Touka by her parents to grant her strength during trying times, but it was now around Kaneki’s neck. It was his strength now, just as she was.

Touka hadn't bothered undressing, her body too tired as she often is lately. He takes the hint and grabs the thin threadbare covers to pull over them. They hide underneath it as if shielded from the troubled world outside. 

It's so pleasant and comfortable that Kaneki doesn’t even mind it as Touka’s freezing feet begin to move up and down between his shins and thighs until she finds the right spot to rest them. The underground chill is usually unbearable, so he’s happy to give her a little extra warmth.

She doesn’t seem to share the same sentiment. 

“Kaneki,” she begins, sleepily. “You’re hands are cold. Let go.”

“Sorry,” he responds, quickly removing his hands from the bare skin of her waist as he attempts to warm them up before slowly testing it out again. When she doesn’t complain or try to move away he pulls her closer. 

"Better?"

"Much."

She smiles at him that smile, though marred by tiredness he finds it is no less breathtaking.

For a while, they just lie there on the bed and look at each other’s bodies, occasionally touching each other in that easy, gentle way they oftentimes do before bed. It's enough to lull them both into a comfortable stupor. It seems like either one will fall asleep at any moment until Touka breaks the comfortable silence. 

“I like spending time like this with you.” The admission is soft, her cheeks flushing slightly. He can tell she’s embarrassed at her words but she doesn’t take them back either. "It seems like the only time we can be together lately is at night."

"I'm sorry," Kaneki apologizes. He wishes he could spend more time with her. Soon he hopes.

"It's okay," Touka says. "It's not your fault."

_It's not your fault._ He rarely heard those words from anyone anymore. It was nice to hear them.

“You know, I love this time too,” he manages through his heart feels ready to burst. “It’s the only part of my day I look forward to.”

Her slight blush deepens and she looks away but says nothing more

Touka lets out a tiny yawn that makes Kaneki’s heart flutter.

“That tired, huh?” 

“Yeah, just a little.” She yawns again, louder this time. “Or a lot.” 

Though it’s cute to see her so sleepy, he’s also a bit concerned. She’s been far more sedated lately than usual. He tries to tells himself it’s simply the stress of living in the tunnels that are affecting her. He mostly believes it.

Knowing if he doesn’t get in a kiss now she’ll be asleep within seconds he cranes his head in to meet her lips. The kiss is soft and gentle, very much unlike the more passionate kisses they’ve exchanged in the past few weeks, but it's no less perfect. 

After that she's asleep in no time, already lightly snoring against his chest.

He watches her fondly for a bit before his eyes are once more drawn back the strange flower in the corner. All is quiet. 

His thoughts backpedal to the topic of love. 

As a younger man, he had been equal parts terrified and enraptured by the idea of love. Of the heart-bursting thrill, of the heartache of it all. Some of his books had described it as the most beautiful, worthwhile torture one could ever experience. 

And maybe for some, it was. 

But now older and hopefully wiser he realized love didn’t always fit this mold.

Love could be quiet. Love could be calm. Love can be merely existing in the same space as the one who owns your heart and enjoying the sereneness of it all. It doesn’t have to hurt, poetically or otherwise. 

This love doesn’t feel like how it was described in his novels, or how he had seen in movies but it was just as good, if not better for it.

Sometimes love just was.

Like himself.

Like the flower.


End file.
